


(bring me) in from the cold

by MercurialMagpie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Work, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialMagpie/pseuds/MercurialMagpie
Summary: Clint was barely scraping by on the streets, until a handsome stranger scooped him up and carried him away. Wait, is he Julia Roberts now?A 'how they might have met' story
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137





	(bring me) in from the cold

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! Have some smut! With more on the way! I'm getting back into this writing thing, you just watch me!

Clint shivered and hugged himself a little tighter. It was getting a bit late in the year to be out on the corner like this, but if he wanted to eat anytime soon, this was pretty much his only option. Not like anyone was really cruising either on a night this cold; maybe he should just give up for the night, try again in the afternoon tomorrow. At least his squat was warm enough that going to bed hungry wouldn’t be complete torture.

And then a sleek, dark sedan prowled down the street and pulled to a stop in front of him. Oh, this was looking up. Clint ambled over to the window as it rolled down, and leaned in just a bit. “Hey, there, honey, you need a-” He caught sight of the driver, and his breath stopped for a moment at how hot the guy was, in a “naughty accountant” sort of way. “Oh, wow. I bet you have people lining up for a date with _you_.” He cringed internally at how awkward (and worse- unprofessional) that sounded, and hoped none of that showed on his face.

Fortunately the driver laughed, and not in a mean way. “Well, that’s surprisingly flattering. As it happens, I was only going to ask for directions, but I could definitely do with letting off some steam. Climb in.” He flicked the switch to unlock the doors, and Clint scampered around to get in the passenger’s side. He immediately started to relax in the blissful warmth. “There’s a seat warmer, too, the dial is here. I, ah, don’t suppose you know how to get to the Hotel del Monaco, do you?”

Clint grinned and turned on the bun warmer. “Lucky for us both, I do. Head for the end of this block, and take a left.” He latched his seatbelt and settled back. “So, um, just checking, you’re not, like, a serial killer that’s going to chop me up and leave my parts for the PD, or anything like that, are you?” The john, paused at the end of the block with his left blinker on, turned to give Clint a vaguely bewildered look, and Clint squirmed and tried to laugh. “Sorry, I may have been watching too many cop shows on afternoon tv lately.”

The john shook his head a little and made the turn. “I promise, you’ll walk out of the hotel in just as many pieces as you started today with.” He stopped at the next stoplight, and turned to give Clint a proper once-over; the approving look he ended up with made Clint feel weirdly warm inside. “Mmm, lovely.” He got his eyes back on the road and got the car moving. “Tell you what. I will give you a thousand dollars, and feed you both dinner and breakfast, if you agree to spend the entire night with me.” He glanced over, but kept most of his attention on the road, clearly giving Clint a little room to decide. “Oh, I’m Phil, by the way.”

Clint couldn’t even wrap his head around the offer at first, so his brain cycled back around to the previous topic. “Three lights up, you’re gonna make a right.” A thousand bucks? That was more money than he’d been expecting to see all week! And the del Monaco supposedly had amazing beds and fantastic food, and why was he even considering turning it down? Now, just to play it cool… “Yeah, that sounds doable. And I’m Clint, nice t’ meetcha.” What? Why had he done that? He had half a dozen fake names he gave to johns, why would he give this one his real name? Oh, well, too late now.

The car was quiet for a few minutes, aside from Clint’s directions, until the john- Phil -abruptly changed lanes in the middle of a block. “Hold on, this is my bank.” He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. “Sit tight, I’ll be back in a minute.” He got out and headed for the ATM, leaving Clint to watch him and think that this was a good sign, the guy being so upfront with the money. When Phil got back in the car, he handed over a wad of bills that Clint didn’t even bother counting, just shoved in his back pocket and put out of his mind.

Two more turns, and they were pulling in to the del Monaco’s parking garage. Clint got out of the car readily enough, but he hesitated just before the door into the lobby. This was a fancy-shmancy place, he was going to stick out- Phil slipped his hand into Clint’s, tangled their fingers together, and sailed past the front desk clerk as if he brought hookers back to his hotel room all the time. Hell, for all Clint knew, he did, and this was just another Monday night for him. Clint was still grateful the elevator doors opened as soon as Phil pressed the call button.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Phil was crowding him into a corner, pressing so close Clint could feel his body heat even through Phil’s (oh, wow, seriously nice) suit and tie. He even managed to loom a little, even though the two men were nearly the same height. “Oh, you really are lovely, sweetheart. I hope you like a little pain with your pleasure, b’cause that’s what I’m in the mood for.” He slithered a hand between their bodies and pinched Clint’s nipple through his thin shirt. Clint jumped a bit, but he couldn’t hold back a moan. 

Phil purred and opened his mouth to say something that would no doubt destroy Clint’s higher brain functions even further, but the elevator doors pinged open on what was apparently their floor. Phil pulled away, turned, and walked off without so much as a glance back at Clint. Clint found that treatment left him a weird mix of irritated and turned on that he definitely didn’t want to look at, so he shook it off as best he could and double-timed it, catching up to Phil just as he got his room door open. Phil swept in, not even looking back to see if Clint was there; to be fair, Clint _did_ stumble to a halt just inside the door. This was not just a room, it was a whole suite, and a swanky one at that. In front of him was a living room type area, with a sofa and tv, and a desk with what he could tell even from here was an unreasonably comfortable desk chair. To his left was a kitchenette, looking barely-used, and to his right was a short hallway that looked like it led to the bathroom and bedroom.

Phil moved to the coffee table and started straightening the papers there. He barely glanced at Clint. “Room service menu is on the desk, if you want to take a shower I can order for both of us.”

Clint knew better than to refuse a shower, especially if the john specifically mentioned it, so he nodded. “A steak and fries would be great. And, like, a Sprite or a 7-Up or whatever.” He knew better than to drink on the job, either. He turned right, and, sure enough, there was the bathroom, all chrome and white tile. He shut the door, stripped, and went about cleaning himself quickly but thoroughly. (He had to fight the urge to linger under the spray that stayed the perfect temperature and pressure the whole time.) When he was done, he looked at his clothes, then shrugged and pulled on one of the plush robes hanging on the back of the door. It’s not like he wasn’t going to get naked again p.d.q.

When he stepped back into the living area of the suite, the tv was on to some nature documentary, the coffee table had acquired two plates and two glasses of soda, and Phil, sitting on the couch, was just finishing cutting the steak into pieces. He gestured down at his feet, where he’d placed a pillow. “Please, come sit here. I’d like very much to feed you before we start anything else.” Clint nodded; it wasn’t like this was weird, not compared to some things johns had asked of him. He sank gracefully down onto the pillow, and found himself leaning against Phil’s leg a little, oddly comforted by the other man’s presence. Phil stroked his still-damp hair, fed him a couple of bites of steak, and continued in the same soft, casual tone, as if he were talking about an afternoon at the park. “And then I’m going to fuck your face for a bit, and probably fuck that sweet little ass of yours until you’re begging for mercy.” 

Clint couldn’t help the delicious shiver that went through him, or the moan that slipped out of him. He still tried (and probably failed) to act halfway cool. “Yeah, I think we can manage that.” He started to reach for his plate, then thought better and pulled his hand back into his lap. “Please, sir, could I have some fries?”

Phil actually patted him on the head like he was a dog, but Clint couldn’t seem to mind. “Good boy for asking. Yes, of course.” He fed Clint a handful of fries, and then a couple sips of soda. “You look beautiful like this, you know, taking food from my hand. And I definitely approve of your clothing choices.” He kept stroking Clint’s hair as he chuckled a little, and Clint smiled, but it felt like his mind was slipping… not away, but sideways, maybe? It kind of reminded him of the moment before a tricky shot, the world both crystalline-sharp and distant-hazy. He liked it more than he wanted to, knew he shouldn’t be in an altered state with a john, but as Phil kept feeding him (alternated with bites of his own salad), he got less and less inclined to fight it. He was feeling more pampered than he ever would have expected in this line of work, and heck, if he got killed tonight, at least he had this first.

Eventually the food was done, though Clint was content to just stay where he was for however long he could. Phil shifted, and at first Clint thought he was just undoing his fly because he’d had so much food, until Phil lifted his hips and scooted his slacks and boxers off his ass and partway down his thighs. Then Clint remembered why he was here, even while he licked his lips at the sight of Phil’s dick, already hard and starting to ooze pre-cum.

Phil stood and turned so he was facing Clint; Clint automatically turned, still on his knees, to face him. Phil stroked the side of Clint’s face. “Such a good boy, so responsive...” He cupped Clint’s cheek for a moment (Clint did his best not to lean into it- why did that little gesture feel so damn good?) then grabbed him under the jaw, forcing Clint’s mouth open. Clint found that he could only moan and let his mouth drop open even further. “There you go, gorgeous, just like that.” His hand slid around to the back of Clint’s head, just holding it in place, and then he just pushed his whole dick into Clint’s mouth all at once, invading it and claiming it, and Clint moaned again as he closed his lips around Phil’s shaft. “Oh, fuck. So hot. So good for me. Look up at me, beautiful.” Phil was already thrusting in and out of his mouth and throat, so Clint’s eyes were already starting to water as he dragged them up Phil’s torso to his face. “Shit, look at you. Already so wrecked just from getting that gorgeous mouth of yours fucked. And you’re taking it so well.”

Phil was starting to pant, losing his words and his rhythm at the same rate. Clint did his best to increase the suction of his mouth without clenching up his throat and activating his gag reflex. (He’d almost thrown up on a boyfriend once, but never on a john, and he was determined to keep it that way. Granted, he’d never had his throat fucked so perfectly, either, but he was starting to get into this floaty headspace, partly because it made his gag reflex wander somewhere far, far away.) Phil grunted, clutching at Clint’s hair. “Yeah, baby, just like that, so good, fuck, baby, swallow it, please tell me you’ll-” He broke off with a sharp cry, his dick pulsing in Clint’s mouth and spurting down Clint’s throat. Clint did his best to swallow it all, but he still felt cum and spit dripping out of the side of his mouth, especially when Phil pulled away from him, both of them fighting to catch their breath. 

Clint was hard and leaking, but even more than some touch, what he really wanted was more of the praise and sweet words Phil had been spilling forth. He swiped absently at the mess on his bottom lip and blinked up at Phil hopefully. “So I did good? You feel good?”

Phil petted his hair, still pretty uncoordinated. “So good, baby, absolutely amazing. Fuck, look at you.” He shifted back a little more, his eyes dark as they raked over Clint’s mostly-nude and completely debauched body. “I hope you know, though, that I’m not nearly done with you. This night is only just getting started.” Clint nodded, a delicious shiver running through him at Phil’s tone even more than his words. “Good boy. Now, up. Leave the robe here and go get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

“Yessir.” Clint staggered a little as he got to his feet (aw, pins and needles, no) but he managed to stumble into the bedroom half-way competently. The blankets had already been pulled away, and the mattress, when he clambered onto it, was amazingly plush and cushy. He positioned himself in the middle of the bed, then just flexed his hands a few times, enjoying the squish and release of the materials.

The next thing he knew, Phil was standing behind him, running a possessive hand over the curve of his butt cheek. “Just gorgeous, every inch of you.” The hand went away, then came back a moment later, hard and fast, directly onto the spot he’d just caressed. Clint gasped and flinched away, but immediately got back into position. Phil made a low, happy noise, and smacked him just as hard on the other cheek. This time, Clint didn’t flinch, and his gasp turned into a moan partway through. Phil gripped the spot he’d just hit. “Fuck, baby, you really do like that, don’t you? So good for me, such a good boy...” The next few hits were quick, but lighter, obviously focused on waking the skin up and getting Clint ready.

Not that Clint needed any _help_ being ready. “Thank you, sir, wanna be good for you, feels good, want you to feel good.” By this point, his ass was rocking _up_ , into the strikes, and every inch of his skin seemed twice as alive as ever before. And the strikes were getting harder, too, Phil even grunting a little as he started put his whole arm into it, but that just made Clint groan and moan louder, needing… needing everything Phil could give him. “Please, sir, please fuck me, oh, God, I need your dick in me, please, I don’t want to come until you’re fucking me!”

Phil froze, his hand still near enough to Clint’s ass that he could feel the heat, and leaned down to growl into Clint’s ear. “Do you mean to tell me that you could come just from me spanking you? Oh, my sweet baby boy, how are you even real?” The bed sagged as Phil climbed up between Clint’s knees, then Clint heard the pop of a lube bottle opening, and felt two fingers being shoved into him, maybe a little too rough but also absolutely perfect. He moaned helplessly, and Phil’s other hand grabbed him by the hip. “Damn, you’re so hot inside, so tight. You’re going to feel amazing around my cock, beautiful.” Phil pulled out his fingers, making Clint whimper at the emptiness, but he came back almost immediately with three newly-lubed fingers, and Clint cried out, his muscles fluttering, trying to draw Phil further in. “I bet you’re going to come just from being fucked, aren’t you, lovely? That’s how good you’re going to be for me, aren’t you?” Clint couldn’t manage words, just a long, loud moan, as Phil pulled out his fingers, put on the condom, and lined his dick up with Clint’s needy hole.

Clint full-on _howled_ as Phil pushed in and just kept going, one fast, harsh slide until he was bottomed out, the jut of his hips pressing against Clint’s recently abused butt cheeks. “Fuck yeah! Oh, thank you, sir, thank you for fucking me, sir, please, more, I can take it, plea-” He choked off as Phil pulled halfway out and slammed back in again, and then all he knew were the moans and whimpers falling out of his mouth, the gorgeous thrust and slide of Phil’s perfect dick, and the pain/pleasure/perfection of hips against spanked ass.

Some timeless time later, one of Phil’s hands came off his hip and slapped his ass, just once, really fuckin’ hard. “Come on, baby, come for me, I want to feel you-” That was all Clint needed. The haze in his mind resolved into fireworks, all sound and light and glory, and he was distantly aware of his limbs thrashing as his orgasm rocketed through him. Phil thrust a couple more times, raggedly, then groaned out his own orgasm.

Clint’s consciousness rallied for just long enough to register Phil laying them down with their heads on the pillows and pulling the blankets over them before the blessed blackness of satisfied sleep took him over.

~A~A~

Clint woke up feeling pretty damn good, and sore in all the best ways. He stretched with a happy hum, and it was only when he tried to get up that he realized he was attached to the bed. Handcuffed, in fact, his wrist chained to the slats of the fake headboard. He rattled the cuffs as loud as he could. “What the hell?”

A moment later, Phil bustled in wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and smiled apologetically. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” He picked a key up from the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the cuff attached to the bed. (Not the one on Clint. Why not the one on Clint? _don’t panic, don’t panic, if he was going to arrest you, it would have been last night, right? This is fine, this is fine..._ ) “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get away from me.” He looked directly into Clint’s eyes, and smiled, but there was something predatory about that look… Clint tried not to be turned on by that look, but he knew it was a losing battle. “I’ve decided to keep you, you see, and I couldn’t have you running off.”

Clint had about 15 emotions rush through him at that statement, which made him pull as far away from Phil as he could without falling off the bed. “Keep me? What the hell kind of thing is that to say?”

Phil just kept smiling like some sort of smug shark. “Keep you. As in, kept man. You were absolutely perfect last night, and I’m not inclined to give that up.” He folded his hands in his lap like a Mafia don negotiating. “I have a little house in Queens, you’d live there with me, and nights when I’m home would mostly be like last night. I’m away on business a lot, though, and during those times you’d be free to pursue your own projects, of course. And I would provide you with food, clothing, all of that, plus a small allowance for whatever else you might want.”

Clint could hardly wrap his mind around any of that. (Him? Yeah, last night had been good- amazing, even -but perfect? And to be a kept man? He was a disaster at best, why would anyone want to keep him around long term?) He hopped up off the bed, pacing and waving both hands around, trying to ignore the clinking around the one wrist. “You know how crazy this is, right? I mean, without even asking me? What if I have a sister I have to get to school, or a grandma who needs her meds, or a dog that needs to be walked?” He clamped his fists against his hips and gave Phil his best glare.

Phil continued to look unflappable and amused, damn him. “And do you have any of those things? Or anything at all keeping you here in Philadelphia?” When Clint’s shoulders sagged, Phil chuckled a little, but he got up and came closer, gently, like Clint was an animal he didn’t want to spook. He took Clint’s forearm in both his hands and drew it closer, then unlocked the cuff around his wrist. “As I mentioned, I travel for work. I’m not exactly planning to chain you to a bed while I’m gone. If I were to come back to an empty house, well. I wouldn’t be happy, but I wouldn’t be vindictive either. Just don’t take my grandmother’s silver.” He shrugged, pretty obviously (at least to Clint) trying to play it off as no big deal, and turned, heading out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. “Oh, by the way? That house I mentioned? The yard is big enough for a dog, I’m just not home enough to care for one. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.” He disappeared toward the living room.

Clint staggered into the bathroom, pissed, and washed his hands. Then he spent a long moment staring at himself in the mirror. Was he really going to fight this, or was he going to go along with it? OK, fine, that had definitely been the best sex he’d ever had with a john, better than most sex he’d had with people he was dating. And Phil was right, it wasn’t like there was anything really tying him to Philly; he’d basically washed up here after the business with the circus and his abortive attempt afterward to go freelance. And, hey, if this whole thing went south, or whatever, he could just wait til Phil’s next business trip and take off, no harm, no foul. Easy enough to disappear into New York, or away from New York, or however it needed to go, especially if he saved this thou and whatever other cash Phil gave him. Yeah, apparently he’d talked himself into this. 

Clint headed out into the living room, where Phil had a pillow on the floor and a spread of carbs and processed meats across the coffee table. He swallowed down all the awkwardness he felt, and went to sit on the pillow, leaning his head on Phil’s thigh and looking up at him through his lashes. “Could I please have some waffle, Daddy?” Clint had no real idea where that last bit came from, but it felt right anyway, so he wasn’t going to fight it.

Phil seemed to like it too, if the small gasp and hand in Clint’s hair meant anything. “Of course you can, baby, you can have anything you like to eat.” He used the side of the fork to cut off a piece of waffle, and offered the bite to Clint, who took it with a happy hum. OK, fine, he could get used to this. He let himself relax a bit, and Phil stroked his hair a couple more times. “So, I thought after breakfast, we’ll check out, go get your stuff and say your goodbyes, and then head back to New York. My boss doesn’t expect me in the office until tomorrow morning, so we’ll have the evening tonight to get you settled, maybe do some grocery shopping.” He held out a piece of bacon for Clint to nibble at.

Clint felt his mind start to slide back into that hazy-clear space it had been in last night, and this time he didn’t try to fight it. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Phil alternating feeding Clint and himself with one hand, while the other stayed tangled in Clint’s hair. When the food was done, Phil left Clint there on the floor while he bustled about, packing up a suitcase and his briefcase. 

Phil seemed to be almost done packing when he realized Clint was still naked. “Go on, baby, get dressed. Can’t have you prancing out of here in the altogether.” He smiled softly, and Clint grinned and ducked his head as he got up, feeling bashful as a schoolboy for maybe the first time in his life. It only took him a minute or two to pull his clothes back on, and then they were out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Phil paused then, looked at Clint’s thin t-shirt and ripped jeans, and frowned thoughtfully. “Going to have to take you clothes shopping tonight, too. Can’t have you catching ill.” Clint just nodded and tried not to squirm or feel judged.

Phil got his bags and the two of them loaded into the car, then just paused and looked at Clint. After a moment, Clint realized what he wanted, and tried not to blush. “Oh, yeah, so, um. Out of the lot, make a right.” He directed Phil to the abandoned apartment building he’d been using as a squat, then paused just before he got out. “This place, and hopefully it only takes me a coupla minutes, and then a place that’s like a couple blocks over, and then...” He let out a sigh that ended on a laugh. “Honestly, I will be happy to get the hell away from this damn town.” He shook his head, at himself as much as anything, and headed into the building. When he got to the hidey-hole in the rotting duct-work where he usually stored his basic stuff, he was glad to see it was all there; there was never a guarantee about that sort of thing in a place like this.

He booked it out of there, giving the place the finger as he cleared the front door, then slung his duffel bag and backpack into Phil’s car’s backseat and got back in the front seat. “Seriously glad to get gone. OK, so go through the next intersection, and then take a right into the alley.” Phil gave him a bit of a strange look, but followed his instructions, then crept down the alley at about 1 mph. Three buildings down, Clint nodded. “Yeah, stop here. I’ll be right back.” As he got out of the car, he eyeballed his route up. He knew it pretty well, but it always paid to check before you climbed, at least as much as you could. Finding it exactly as he’d last seen it, he hopped from trash can to dumpster to fire escape to window ledge, until he got to his real hiding hole. He’d scouted out this place, where two buildings came together unevenly, leaving a gap that was almost guaranteed not to get too wet or too cold, a place no one would ever look (but him, of course), and he’d hidden his most precious possessions here. 

Now he drew the oiled-wool bundle out, hugged it to his chest, and bounced back down to street level. He got back in the car and nodded to Phil. “All done. End of the alley, make a left, I’ll get us onto the highway.” He unwrapped the bow and quiver, then started checking the former for cracks or warping.

Phil blinked at him for a second. “That was some impressive acrobatics.” He pulled his attention back to the road and got them back on the main street, then glanced over at Clint, and did a double-take. “Wait. Is- is that a _bow_?”

Clint couldn’t help a snort of almost-laughter. “Not exactly what you expected from a hooker, right?” He gave Phil an ironic little bow, with flourish. “I used to be The Amazing Hawkeye. Come see the show! Oh, and turn left at the next light.”

Phil flicked his gaze almost urgently between Clint and the road. “Holy shit, _the_ Hawkeye? The World’s Greatest Marksman? We’ve been looking for you!”

Clint tensed, calculating the possibility of getting out of the car with his bow and all his limbs intact. He knew this was too good to be true. “Shit. You’re going to arrest me, aren’t you?”

Phil gave a disbelieving laugh. “Arrest you? Are you kidding, we want to recruit you! You were doing some damn fine work there for a little while, taking out some very bad people in very creative ways. We’d like to fund you, give you some support personnel and better intel, see what you can really do.” He threw a quick grin at Clint, then a slight frown. “Oh, I should say. ‘We’ is the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. We’re technically an intelligence agency, but we do a lot of work around that, too. Some wetworks, of course, but if you went in that direction we’d encourage you to pick your own targets, at least to some extent. We tend to find that people do their best work when they get a say in the process.” He spotted the first signs for the highway he needed, and put all his attention on navigating a series of turns and on-ramps.

Clint was glad for a minute or two to get his whirling thoughts in order. This time yesterday, he had been wondering if he could pull together enough money for an actual hot meal, then he’d been _claimed_ by someone who turned out to be a super-hot, super-secret spy, and _then_ he’d been offered an Honest To God JOB with said secret spy agency. They wanted to pay him. They wanted to see what he “could really do”. They wanted him to be a half-way respectable member of society. And, sure, that stuff was great. But there was a little voice in the back of his head, reminding him about this morning, and last night, and the way his Daddy had said he was perfect… He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say. “But you’ll still be my Daddy, right?” He immediately wanted to melt into the seat at the whiny-little-kid tone in his voice.

Phil’s breath caught, and his hand darted out to clasp around Clint’s wrist and hold on tight. “Yes, baby. God, yes, if that’s what you want, definitely yes.” Clint’s whole mood lifted, higher than it had maybe ever been. He felt like he could fly, and he couldn’t help grinning like mad. Fortunately, when he turned to look at Phil, he was grinning just as hard. It might even be true love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant as a stand-alone, but if you enjoyed both this and Darkness Within Me, and have Opinions, the first comment below is a poll about tying the two stories together. Of course, general comments are always fully welcome as well.


End file.
